


Astray

by Blaumeise



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: F/M, Grooming, M/M, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise
Summary: A week, Duff had thought, maybe two; take a trip to L.A., find a place to crash, earn a few bucks, do auditions and join a band. Now, a month later, he was so broke it started to hurt.Being homeless is no fun, Duff realizes, so when some guy offers him a place for the night, he takes what he can get. But nothing is for free, he soon realizes and is left with the question: how far is he willing to go to make his dreams come true?
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Other(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

‘One day your optimism is going to break your neck,’ Grandma McKagan used to say and Duff was sure, the day had finally come. 

A week, he had thought, maybe two. Take a trip to L.A., find a place to crash, earn a few bucks, do auditions and join a band. Now, a month later, he was so broke it started to hurt. Even paradise quickly lost appeal when a bunk at a flea-ridden hostel was already outside one’s means, and L.A., not so close to paradise as Duff had imagined it would be, was no exception to the rule. 

Not that Duff was keen on another night at the hostel, not after somebody had stolen his pen-knife, his last bag of pot and his two-burgers-for-the-price-of-one-coupon. He had planned to chat somebody up in front of the burger-joint, somebody who would go in, buy his own burger and didn’t mind picking up the second one for some hungry kid from Seattle. His stomach had already been rumbling in anticipation. Now it was rumbling only in protest. 

He had tried sleeping during the day, riding endless-circles on busses, curled up in a corner, his bag under the seat and one hand always on the guitar. Nights were better spent wandering the streets, looking out for an all-night-burger-joint where they would let him nurse a cup of coffee over hours, and sometimes even allowed him to doze for a few minutes with his head on the table. 

Tonight, Duff was out of luck. It had been raining all day and the less stringent places were already swamped with hobos and street-kids who tried to catch a bit of warmth before they were driven out again. All he could get hold of was a bus-stop in a deserted suburb, a plastic bench under a Plexiglas-roof. 

It didn’t provide much shelter when gusts of wind drove the rain into his overnight accommodation, but Duff had learned to be content with what he could get. It wasn’t the first night he spent on this bench. Well away from the bustling town centre, there were no patrol-cars, no cops who would force him to pack up and send him on a search for another, even less comfortable place to put down his head. 

It wasn’t even midnight yet and Duff was ready to drop. All attempts to find a comfortable rest for his head, be it on his knees, against the Plexiglas-wall, or propped up on his bag, had been in vain, but then he didn't dare to fall asleep anyway. He was less afraid of being hurt than of waking up without any of his belongings. 

Completely devoid of any other options, he just sat there, pretending it wasn't all that bad while water dripped from his hair onto his shoulders and from his jacket onto his jeans. He curled his toes in his soaked trainers and started to fear for his guitar. If he fucked it up in the rain, he was as good as dead.

Grandma McKagan was psychic, Aunt Gwen used to say. 

There was always the last alternative: taking his stuff to one of the arterial roads, holding out his thump and catching a hitch back to Seattle. 

Duff sighed. He would never make it in Seattle. L.A. was the place to go, Paradise City, the Miracle Town where everything was three times bigger and where everybody who wanted to leave a mark had to gain a foothold. 

All he needed was a base, a place where he could leave his stuff for a few days, could catch up on lost sleep and actually make it to an audition awake and rested enough to get through a couple of songs without too many glitches. 

Maybe he should switch back to drums. Or to bass. Everybody wanted to be the guitarist and Duff knew his abilities were limited. His talents lay deeper. Maybe he couldn’t blaze out dazzling solos, but he knew how to keep a song’s pulse sound and steady. Others would go wild on the foundation he created, trusting that he would catch them and ease them back into the same, solid rhythm they had escaped from for the flash of a solo. 

Duff was torn out of his musings when a car slowed down and stopped right in front of him. He sat up straight and curled one hand around the handle of the guitar-case. During the last hour, he had been alone with a stray dog and the occasional rat checking out the waste-bins. Not that there was anything to fill their stomach with. Duff had made sure of that. 

The window zoomed down and he could make out the silhouette of a single person in the driver's seat. 

"There ain't no busses until tomorrow morning," a male voice said. 

"Yeah, I’ve noticed." Duff pulled up his feet and hugged his knees. The last thing he needed was clever remarks from a stranger.

"Do you need a hitch?"

For a moment Duff was tempted to say 'yes'. He could name a place at the other end of the town, bask for an hour in the warmth of the car's heating and dry a little before he was thrown back out into the rain. 

"No, thank you," he said instead. Who knew if he would find another place to spend the night? At least this bus-stop had a roof. It was better than a park-bench. 

The man opened the door and exited the car. He was maybe in his mid-thirties, not quite as tall as Duff, but stockier, with friendly eyes under a shock of brown hair.

"Do you need a place for the night?" He crossed the little torrent in the gutter and hurried to get under the roof. “Jesus, how long have you been sitting here?” He eyed Duff curiously, the patched-up duffle-bag at his feet, the guitar across his lap. 

Duff’s feet grated on the edge of the bench, then slipped off and dropped into the puddle. He rubbed his hands over his damp thighs and hoped he didn’t look too pathetic. It was a nuisance, but people tended to think he was an underage runaway and grew all protective around him. Sometimes it scored him some food, but most often they just told him to go back home and finish school or some shit like that. 

“I’m Josh.” The man pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans. “Fancy one?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Cigarettes. The night was still redeemable. 

Josh clicked the lighter and Duff was short of closing his icy fingers around the flame.

“Duff,” he mumbled belatedly through the first drag while Josh lit his own cigarette. 

“What was that?” He sat down on the bench.

“My name,” Duff said. “’s Duff.”

“You’re not from here, are you?”

“Seattle.” 

“Should have recognized the accent.”

Josh didn’t ask what Duff was doing in L.A. The guitar-case should give him all the clues he needed. L.A. was swamped with aspiring actors and musicians. There was nothing special about a kid from Seattle going to the dogs in the process. 

Another gust of wind blew rain into their faces and Duff wrapped his jacket closer around himself. 

“Freaking uncomfortable today, isn’t it? You sure you don’t need a place for the night?”

Duff shrugged, trying to appear unfazed, while his thoughts were chasing each other through his tired brain. If Josh was after a quick fuck, he would have proposed by now. No punter went through a lengthy conversation only to check the availability of a street kid. He hadn’t tried to close the space between them either, hadn’t even dropped some stupid come-on-lines. 

“Are you a social worker? If so, I’m of age, OK? I’m old enough to be away from home.” 

Josh laughed. “No, I’m not a social-worker. And I don’t doubt that you’re old enough to make your own decisions. I just thought that this wasn’t the place I would want to spend a night like this, but maybe you’re tougher than me.”

Duff pulled a face. Right now, he didn’t feel tough at all, more like the little boy he had stopped being ages ago. 

“Look, I live only a couple of blocks from here.” Josh dropped the cigarette into the puddle at Duff’s feet. “Carol and the babies are waiting, so I’ve really gotta go, but the offer stands. Unless you’re comfy here, you’re welcome to crash on my couch.”

Duff hesitated. Wife and kids. If Josh was a psychotic killer, would he take him home to wife and kids? Maybe he was just somebody who took the “love-your-neighbour”-thing too serious.

Another gust of rain drowned all doubts Duff might ever have had. 

"That would be cool," he said and before he had the time to develop second thoughts, his belongings were stored in the trunk and he was sitting on the passenger seat, stretching his legs out into the warmth from the blowers. 

He would just have a look. If there wasn’t any family or if Josh started to behave creepy, he could always gather his things and leave. 

Ten minutes later Josh pulled the car off the road and parked it in the garage under a faceless apartment-building. It was remarkably clean, Duff thought, no graffiti on the walls, the elevator was working and there was even the faint trace of detergent hanging in the air. 

‘Myles,’ Duff read three stories later on the nametag next to a chipped door. Belatedly he wondered what the wife would say if she woke up and found a stranger in her apartment. He didn't have to wonder for long. As soon as the door opened, the crying of a baby resonated loud enough to wake up the whole building. 

Josh searched for the light switch and dim neon light illuminated a narrow corridor that widened into something similar to a hall right behind the door. 

"Fuck," he muttered. "Jesus, Carol, shut him up, for chirssake!" he yelled before he turned around and cast Duff a tired grin. "OK, come in. Just leave your stuff… wherever there's room."

Duff leant his guitar against the wall and dropped his bag between shoes and toy-cars. He stepped over a big plastic lorry and followed Josh into the kitchen. 

"Why are the kids still up?" Josh asked, annoyance wiping the friendliness out of his voice. 

"Why?" A woman sat at the table, her nightgown open and a baby sucking at her breast. She was a couple of years younger than Josh, but had the same dark hair and grey eyes. 

The second child, a maybe two-year old boy in diapers, stumbled crying over the floor. Every two steps he fell flat on his ass, which resulted in fresh snot and tears. 

"Why? Because first Kate started to cry and when I had just started feeding her, Jesse woke up and crawled out of his cot and I don't have more than one pair of hands, so instead of standing there and complaining, why don't you pick him up and put him back to bed."

"The fuck, I'm doing," Josh snarled and walked over to the fridge. 

Duff stood in the doorway, not sure what to do. "Hi," he said when Carol noticed him, but quickly realized that he was far from welcome. 

"Who's that?" she asked with all the delight of somebody who had just spotted a cockroach in the sink. 

"Duff's staying for a bit." Josh took several cans of beer out of the fridge and banged the door shut. "Pizza, Duff?" He opened the upper door and came up with two cardboard-boxes.

"Don't tell me you're dragging another one in here." Carol's voice rose in alarm.

Duff shifted from one foot to the other, hoping his bench was still vacant. How long had they been driving? Ten minutes? Walking back shouldn’t be so bad. 

"Mind your own fucking business, OK?" Josh tore the boxes open and pushed frozen pizza into the oven. 

"Wasn't the last one bad enough?" She stuffed her breast back into her nightgown and rose from her chair. "What about the children? This is no environment for them!" The baby, propped up in one of her Mom’s arms, pushed her fists into the air. 

"Shut up!" Josh slammed one of the beer-cans onto the counter before he popped the lid open and took a long gulp. "I earn the money, I pay the rent, the food, and I do what I want, is that clear?" 

The toddler, Jesse, had made his way through the kitchen and was now sitting at Duff's feet. He tried to get rid of his diapers, his face red from the effort of crying. Without thinking Duff picked him up and rocked him gently while his parents where busy screaming at each other. 

"Oh, grow the fuck up!" The baby had started to whine, too and Carol shifted it from her left hip to her right. "Those punks you pick up mean nothing but trouble. They steal, they use drugs and all that around the children."

Jesse had calmed and wiped his snotty nose on Duff's wet jacket. Duff looked out of the window in an attempt to ignore the fight. It was pitch-black outside and if anything, the rain had even grown stronger. 

"Then take your fucking kids elsewhere," Josh yelled, his face flushed with anger. "I didn't exactly beg for you to come and live here."

Jesse buried his face against Duff’s chest and clutched his jacket with tiny fists. 

Carol opened her mouth for a retort, but instead she shook her head in resignation. "Really, sometimes you’re such an asshole." 

"And you," she walked over to Duff and took the child out of his arms, "stay away from my babies." She looked his sorry appearance up and down with an air that spoke of nothing but disgust. "Paedophile!" she said while she propped Jesse up on her other hip. 

Duff flinched. "I was only trying to calm him," he mumbled. What the hell did she think he had been doing? 

Carol cast him a confused glance while she rearranged her children and turned back to Josh. 

"A fine brother I have. I swear, if there's any trouble with the cops, I'm not going to say anything in your favour. Not if you're stepping down to that." She jerked her chin into Duff's direction. 

"Whatever." Josh sipped his beer and stared at the clock over the kitchen-table. It was a few minutes past midnight. 

“Yeah,” Carol said, “whatever.” 

Duff stepped aside when she elbowed past him and vanished through one of the other two doors that went off from the corridor. 

With a sigh Josh leant against the counter. "Sorry about that," he said. "Don't know what's gotten into her."

"She's your sister?" Duff asked and shifted uncomfortably. "I thought she was your wife." He would have preferred a wife; wife and two babies sounded much better than sister with two babies. 

"My wife?" Josh laughed and the former friendliness was back. "No, you got that wrong. Carol's my sister. Two babies from a thug who doesn't pay a cent of child-support, that's why she's living here. For the moment. I should probably be nicer to her, but sometimes…Guess you know how it goes between siblings.”

"Yeah." Duff looked again out of the window. He could stay for a couple of hours, dry his clothes, eat pizza and when Josh should start any sick shit, he would leave. Josh didn’t seem dangerous and, in all likelihood,, it was pure paranoia that made him wary. A guy who took up his sister and her babies couldn’t be all bad. In all probability he had just a soft spot for people in trouble.

“Pizza’s ready in a minute,” Josh announced cheerfully and Duff forced a smile. “Why don’t you change into something dry and then we watch TV and have a few beers? Bathroom is through the door on the left, if you need it. And, if you forgive me the remark, you might be wet, but you’re far from clean.”

Duff felt a hysteric giggle build in his throat. “I guess I smell like wet dog, huh?”

“Worse, I’d say. Hurry up, I’ll have food ready when you’re done.”

A hot shower, a salami-pizza and two beers later, Duff had put all his worries aside. He was sitting on the couch in the small living-room, his feet on the coffee-table and another beer in his hands. He had pulled a pair of dry and fairly clean sweats out of his duffle-bag and as he now watched an old John-Wayne-movie, he felt for the first time in over a week like a human being. 

Josh hadn’t put any stupid moves on him and Duff relaxed. Warm and sheltered as he was, the sound of rain pelting the windows provided a soothing background-rhythm and he developed increasing difficulties to keep his eyes open. It was almost two in the morning, his stomach was full and alcohol tingled comfortably in his limbs.

“You look tired.” Josh put an arm around his shoulder and rubbed his neck. “Wanna go to bed?”

“Nah.” Duff yawned. “If you still wanna watch… what was that movie?”

Josh chuckled. “Boy, I’d say we tuck you in. Unless… fancy a bedtime cookie?”

Josh winked at him before he stood up and crammed around in a drawer next to the TV set. 

“I’ve got… where, the fuck… yep, this is what I was looking for. Perfect movie before falling asleep.” He held up a VHS-tape.

“OK.” Duff tried to stifle another yawn. Hopefully it was a short movie. If Josh was a fan of ‘Gone with the Wind’ he couldn’t promise he’d stay awake until Rhett and Scarlet lived happily ever after. Or didn’t they? Not that he cared.

“What is it?” Duff asked when Josh returned to the couch 

“Just wait.” He pointed the remote-control at the recorder.

Duff blinked when he saw a heavy-breasted, naked blonde open her cherry-coloured mouth to go down on a very erect cock. The cock’s owner could have easily posed as Superman, but his face spoke of sheer boredom while the chick’s head bopped up and down in his lap. 

Josh grinned. “She’s my favourite,” he said. “Just look at her.”

“Yeah, cool,” Duff mumbled. Maybe if he wasn’t so tired, he would be able to appreciate the talents and natural equipment brought so generously to his attention, but as it was, his cock only made a few feeble twitches and gave up. 

“Look at her skin,” Josh whispered. “All smooth and pale.”

Duff stared, but couldn’t find anything extraordinary. It was the typical porn-star-skin, flawless and shiny. 

“Wow,” Josh laughed. “Yours is just like hers, did you notice? Smooth and pale. Do you think hers feels like yours, too?” He stroked over Duff’s cheek, a touch too tenderly to be considered a joke.

Duff flinched and eyed Josh with rekindled wariness. 

“Hey, you’re blushing,” Josh chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed. There’s no shame in being pretty, ‘s not your fault.”

Duff didn’t answer. He could still leave. Nobody was holding him. He listened to the pattern of the raindrops that had suddenly lost its comfortable sub-tone. 

Josh shifted on the couch. He leant back, parted his legs and opened his fly. “Yeah, honey, give it to him,” he groaned and rubbed his hand over his crotch. “Nobody gives me such a boner as this chick. Look.”

He grabbed Duff’s wrist and before Duff knew what was happening, there was a cock under his hand, still separated by a thin layer of cloth, but that didn’t do much to make the sensation any more pleasant. He twitched and feebly tried to pull away, but Josh held him in place. 

Duff stared at the TV-screen. It was almost filled out by the blonde’s ass before Superman pushed his cock into her cunt. Josh’s dick felt less impressive, but still big enough. Duff sipped at his beer, eyes firmly on the screen while Josh rubbed against his palm. The bit of cloth was pulled away and now there was just skin on skin. 

He could hear the splatter of rain over both, the movie- and the real-life-groaning. If he stood up and left, Josh would hardly hold him by force. His stuff was in the hall, his bag, his guitar, and his jacket. Jeans, socks and sweater were hanging in the bathroom, but it wouldn’t take more than a minute to pick them up.

The chick had dropped onto her elbows, her ass high in the air, while Superman gave it to her. Josh’s cock started to feel sticky, as if he was close to coming. 

It was only a dick and it didn’t feel too different from his own. Five minutes of holding a sticky cock compared to a night outside in the rain. 

Josh’s rubbing grew frantic. Duff curled his hand tightly around the beer can, until his fingers left little dents in the aluminium. Superman was close, too. He rammed into the chick, slapping her tits against the floor with each thrust. Then he pulled out of her and treated the audience to a full view of his ejaculation. 

“Jesus Christ,” Josh sighed and Duff flinched as warm sperm ran over his hand. “She’s the hottest ever, I tell you.”

Duff’s hand was free and he pulled it away. He cast Josh a cautious glance, relieved to see him pack his dick back into his pants. 

“I need the bathroom,” Duff mumbled and stood up, careful not to touch anything with his sticky hand. 

Inside, he kicked the bathroom-door shut and scrubbed his hands with more soap than he usually used in a month. 

“Think, Duff,” he mumbled and turned the water as hot as it got. “No hasty decisions now, for once, think.”

Josh was a creep, but one of the harmless sorts. He had gotten his fun for the night and would hardly try again. If it was brute force and violence he was after, he would have waited until Duff was asleep and not given him a warning beforehand. 

No, leaving was the wrong decision. If anything, he had earned his bed for the night. He wasn’t a helpless little girl and holding somebody’s cock didn’t harm him. 

Duff turned off the water, feeling sick to his stomach. That last beer had apparently been one beer to much. Drowsily he rested his head against the cool porcelain of the sink and fought the nausea down before he splashed some water into his face and straightened his back. 

Nobody had said being a musician was a Sunday school outing. Either you had what it took or you hadn’t. If this was already past his limits, he’d better go back home and get a regular job, pushing pencils over a desk and sucking up to his boss. 

When he came back to the living-room, Josh had already turned the convertible couch into a bed, complete with pillows and blankets. Two each.

“Aren’t you sleeping in your bedroom?” Duff asked and the uneasiness crept back up with another round of sickness. 

Josh chuckled. “This is my bedroom. At least since Carol moved in. She got my old room, together with the kids.”

Duff swallowed, wondering if maybe this arrangement was far worse than the bus-stop. 

”Don’t worry,” Josh climbed onto the couch and patted the place next to him. “It’s large enough or I wouldn’t have offered. You don’t have to be afraid that you’re crowding me.”

Duff took a deep breath and slipped under the blanket. Still wearing his sweats and even socks, he curled up on his side, careful to take up as little space as possible. 

“Good night,” Josh said and turned off the light. 

“Yeah,” Duff whispered. “Good night.”


	2. Chapter 2

Duff had been sure that he wouldn’t be able to close an eye, but Josh’s presence hadn’t been a match for the combination of alcohol, warmth and exhaustion. When a hand on his shoulder shook him awake, he noticed a dim light that had been turned on in the corner of the room. Josh knelt next to the couch, dressed in a working overall and smelling of fresh coffee and the scented soap from the bathroom-sink. 

“Whassa time?” Duff mumbled and forced his sticky eyes open. It was still dark outside, but the traffic-noises indicated that morning was near.

“Seven,” Josh said. “Look, I’ve gotta go to work. Don’t let Carol tell you any bullshit, OK? This is my apartment, not hers, so she has no right to drive you out.”

“’K.” Duff sat up and tried to remember where he was. He had been dead to the world and the fine tentacles of sleep were still tucking at his mind. 

“Go back to sleep,” Josh said and tousled Duff’s hair. “We’ll talk tonight.”

“Sure.” Duff flopped back down and buried his face in the pillows. Tonight, he would be long gone and Josh and his sticky cock would be nothing but a fleeting memory. 

When he woke for a second time, it was already broad daylight. Duff padded over to the window and peered outside. The rain had ceased, but the sky, grey and overcast, was ripe with promise. Child laughter from the kitchen brought Duff back to his situation. Carol wouldn’t be pleased to see him, but maybe he could snatch a coffee and some food before he headed out again. Rested and clear-headed, his late-night-experience was more ridiculous than frightening. A dick was a dick and whether he jerked off his own or somebody else’s cock didn’t make a big difference. It was harmless compared to what Josh could have done to him anytime while he had been asleep. 

“Hi,” Duff mumbled when he entered the kitchen. “Morning.”

“Morning?” Carol had been feeding Jesse with mashed potatoes and baby-carrots, but now she eyed Duff with a faint trace of amusement in her eyes. “Yes, I guess your lot would call this ‘morning’. It’s already past one.”

Duff scratched his head, not sure what had brought on the change in her behaviour. At least she wasn’t yelling at him, which was a distinct improvement. 

“Do you mind if I…” he indicated towards the counter.

“Help yourself.” Carol made cooing noises and shoved another spoon full of potatoes into Jesse’s mouth. “I’ve got enough work with my own babies. I’m not going to pamper Josh’s as well.”

Duff blushed and turned his back on her. “I’m nineteen, you know,” he said, not sure why he felt the need to tell her. He filled the electric kettle and found a package of toast in the bread box. He slotted two slices into the toaster and watched while the wires started to glow. 

“Sure enough of your age that you’d show me your ID?”

Duff gave her a startled look. “You want to see my ID?”

“It would make me sleep a lot better,” Carol said. “Jam’s in the fridge, honey in the cupboard on the left.”

Duff chose butter and honey, scraped it over his toast and carried his mug and plate over to the table. 

“As we’re going to live here together, let’s set a few things clear, shall we?” She gave him a stern look that betrayed her question as a command.

He could tell her that he was leaving in a minute anyway, but Duff was curious where she was heading, so he nodded.

“First of all, I want to see your ID. Josh is my brother and I’m the first to admit that he’s got his good sides, but he likes his boys far too young for my taste. I’m sure as hell not getting involved in anything that smells of statutory rape.”

Duff groaned, stood up to fetch his wallet and dropped his ID onto the table. 

“Happy now?” he asked and sipped his coffee.

“This is genuine? You sure look younger.”

Duff rolled his eyes and Carol gave him something that was almost a smile.

“When Josh brought you home last night I thought, he had lost his mind,” she said. 

“Yeah, I noticed.” Duff chewed his toast. So that was why she had flipped. Apparently, Josh made a habit out of picking up kids from the streets. 

“I don’t want any drugs in the house.”

Duff nodded. 

“I don’t care what you do outside, but you bring any shit up here, I report you to the cops. Same goes for stealing. Anything missing, you’re done. And no parties. In fact, I don’t care about your friends and I don’t have the slightest need to meet them. None of them. Go and visit them at their place, OK?”

The baby started to cry in the bedroom and Carol put the spoon down with a sigh. 

“OK, so Jack or Fred or Archibald or whatever your name is.” 

“Duff.” Duff said. 

“Now that you say it.” She stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Do me a favour, Duff. Feed Jesse while I look after Kate, or within a minute, we’ll have two screaming babies in the house.”

Duff shifted to her chair and picked up the spoon while Jesse craned his head after his mother. 

“Hey, Jesse.” Duff tried at the same time to eat his toast and balance baby-carrots on the spoon. “Remember me? We’ve met yesterday. I was the dripping-wet guy standing in the doorway. The one you used to wipe your nose on.”

Jesse didn’t want to be fed. He reached for the spoon and when Duff handed it to him, he smacked it happily into the potatoes. Eventually they came to a mutual agreement. Duff fed him the honey-toast and ate the carrots and potatoes himself. 

“Wow, how did you do that?” Carol asked when she returned and saw the half empty plate. “By all means, keep going,” she laughed when Duff wanted to make room for her. “You must be a natural. I’ll have a coffee instead.”

Duff picked up a little matchbox-car, rolled it over the plastic-tray in front of the high-chair and whenever Jesse forgot his refusal to eat, he quickly pushed a spoon full of potatoes into his mouth. 

“You’re good at that.” Carol sat down with her mug. “Younger siblings?”

“Just lots of nieces and nephews.”

“Big family, huh?”

Duff nodded. Strange that he should miss them so much. There had always been so much bustling and banging and screaming in the house. Yeah, and even more laughter and talking and fun. Being alone sucked more than he would have thought. 

When Jesse was definitely done eating, Duff handed him the toy-car and returned to his breakfast. Their own kitchen at home hadn’t been so different, the worn-out cupboards, the plastic furnish cracking at the corners, the smell of coffee, people chatting, children screaming. He missed it. 

“So, you already know for how long you’re going to stay? Or is Josh the love of your life?”

Duff swallowed. “I’m not gay,” he whispered. 

“Duh, guess what, I figured that much,” Carol snorted. “So, for how long?”

“Maybe a few days?” It came out as a question. Last night really hadn’t been that bad and even if Josh should do it again, he could deal with it. There were worse guys out there than Josh and his need for hand-jobs. “Until I’ve found a band.”

“A band, huh?” Carol’s look spoke of pity. “So, you’re one of those? I thought so when I noticed the guitar.” She stared into her coffee. “Look, it’s not my business, but are you sure you’re not running after a pipedream?”

“I’m good,” Duff protested. OK, not that good if he was honest; at least not with the guitar, but he would switch to bass as soon as he could get his hands on one. 

“I’m sure you are.” Carol smirked and pushed a strand of brown hair out of her face. “But lots of kids are and still don’t get a chance.”

Duff shrugged. “I’ve already played in bands, up in Seattle. I know the deal. It’s only taking a bit longer than I thought, that’s all.”

“And you’re willing to go how far for it?” There it was again, the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. She was making fun of him, but Duff didn’t mind. 

“As far as necessary,” he said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I see that.” Carol’s smile turned tired. “You’re getting sleepy, aren’t you?” She turned away from Duff and pulled Jesse out of his chair. “Right, you want your nap.” 

She left the kitchen, talking to her son and Duff was alone with a mug of cold coffee. 

He would find a band. He had stopped calling on ads during the last two weeks, too busy with finding food, shelter and avoiding the cops, but he would pick up on it now. 

This was his chance to start all over again, without worrying over stupid things like survival, and he would be damned if he didn't grasp it and make good use of it. There had to be somebody out there who needed a guitarist or a drummer or a bassist and until then he would rub as many cocks as was necessary. 

+++

If there had ever been one thing Duff was good at, it was adapting. Within a few days, he had slipped into his new life, the old one so far gone it was almost hard to remember. He spent his days joking with Carol, babysitting Kate and Jesse and working himself through stacks of newspapers, looking for advertisements. 

Now and then he earned a few bucks by shovelling sand, carrying crates or doing whatever job was offered for a day, but his firm intention to save the money and get a place of his own were blown away as soon as he passed the next liquor shop. He blew the money, had a night out, was thrown out of a couple of bars and in the wee morning hours he went back to what he already considered as ‘home’.

The pay seemed insignificant. Ninety-nine percent of the time Josh behaved rather like an older brother. His touches were unthreatening and his words without double-meaning. It was the one percent that sucked, but even the late evenings, alone with Josh in the living-room, had lost their menace. A drink or two were enough to take the edge of what he was doing. It was just hand-jobs, never more, and after the first few attempts, he could do it with his head lying on Josh’s shoulder and Josh’s arm sneaked loosely around his waist. 

When Josh eventually exchanged beer for vodka, Duff lost his passiveness. Instead of just holding still, he started working on Josh’s cock, and the endearments whispered into his ear between moans and groans turned from embarrassing into amusing and sometimes almost to flattering. 

It was fair trade and Duff saw no problems in sticking to his part. The only thing wearing him down was the lack in progress when it came to finding a band. 

“Not good?” Carol asked when Duff dragged the guitar into the kitchen. 

“That obvious?” He tried to smile. “Hey, Jesse.” 

Jesse sat on his blanket in a corner. He looked up for a moment before he returned to his baby-toys, unwilling to help him avoiding Carol’s questions. 

“Sit, I’ll make you tea,” she said and filled the kettle.

“Tea is not the cure for everything, you know.” Duff dropped on a chair and buried his head in his arms.

“Vodka isn’t either,” Carol replied gruffly. 

“Blah, blah, blah,” Duff mumbled into his sleeve, but he looked up when he heard ceramic clatter and accepted the steaming hot mug Carol pushed into his hands. 

“So, what happened?” she sat down with her own cup and lit a cigarette. 

Duff sighed. He didn’t really want to recapture the humiliation, but Carol would insist. At least she pushed the package over to him and let him have one of her smokes.

“It was over before I had even started.” He dipped a finger into his tea and ran it over the rim of his cup. “I knew they would take the other guy. I still played, but I knew it was a waste of time.”

“Was he that good?” Carol asked. 

Duff wondered what she was thinking. Her face was carefully guarded, as if she was listening to a kid’s woes and tried to treat them with seriousness. 

“No, not really.” Duff sighed. “Yes, he was good. Kinda. But that’s not the reason, you know.”

Carol waited. These moments were rare, when Kate was sleeping and Jesse too self-absorbed to need his Mom. A strange solace lay in these minutes, when he had her attention and she would listen to his sorrows like they mattered to her. 

“I mean, you know how it goes,” he said. 

“No, I don’t. I’m an innocent girl, how should I know what goes on in the world of bad-ass rockers?” Carol smirked. “So, enlighten me.” 

“It was like… I mean….he was already there, you know. And you could see they had made their decision before I had played a note.”

“That’s shit.”

“Yeah.” Duff sipped his tea although he would have preferred something stiffer. 

“There’s something I was wondering about,” Carol stood up and fetched a magazine from the living-room. “Look,” she said and laid it onto the table.

“Rolling Stone, cool.” Grateful for the distraction Duff wanted to open it, but Carol snatched it away. 

“I didn’t buy it for the stories, but I wanted to show you something.” She opened the magazine and pointed at the pictures of various musicians. “Notice something?”

Duff shrugged. What was there to notice? Some were good, some were shit, that’s how it was. 

“What I mean is,” Carol took her seat back, “maybe we need to do something about your looks.”

“What’s wrong with my looks?” Duff wrinkled his forehead. 

“Those guys look at you and they put you into a drawer. It’s your job to make sure it’s the right drawer. Dress for the job you want, not the one you have and all that.” Carol said. “You’re cute n’ all, but you’re…”

“I’m not cute,” Duff growled. Puppies and kittens were cute.

Carol laughed. “Of course, you are cute. But if you wanna make it in a rock band, cute is not enough. You have to be sexy. You have to make the girls lick your palms and therefore you have to be hotter than hell. Don’t get me wrong, you’re really… cute, but I bet it would help to… tart you up a little.”

Duff pulled the magazine towards himself and flipped through the pages. OK, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he got a few new clothes and he could try to go for something sexier, but, fuck, there were more important things. 

“It’s about music, not about looks,” he said. 

“Looks are important, Duff, don’t underestimate that. Image, appearance, it counts far more than you might think. If you and your competitor are on the same level of skills, they might go for the one who fits the image they want to create. Do you understand what I mean?”

“’m not stupid,” Duff mumbled. “You say if I look cool and hot, they’ll think I really am cool and hot, and it’s gonna make them look cool and hot, too.” 

It wasn’t such a bad idea. All his clothes were old and worn out and since he’d lost a few pounds on his trip to starvation, nothing really fit anymore. Hot was really not the word he’d use to describe his appearance. 

“That’s all gonna cost a shitload of money and I don’t have any,” he said. “If I had it, I would buy a bass guitar.”

“Maybe we could do something with your hair.” Carol reached out and touched his head. “Dye it, for example.”

Duff mulled it over. Dyeing was a good idea. “Blue would be cool,” he said. “With red streaks in it. Like flames on water, you know.”

Carol wrinkled her nose. “Blue?”

He nodded. “Blue would be awesome.”

“No, not blue.” She cocked her head and eyed him critically. “I’d say we make you blond.”

“Blond?” Was there anything more boring than blond?

“Yes, blond is your colour. I went to beauty-school before Jesse was born, so I’m almost an expert.” She winked at him. 

“But blond?” 

“It would bring out your eyes. They are dark and it would contrast nicely.”

“But blond?”

Carol nodded full of enthusiasm. “How about we make a deal. You let me have a go at your hair and I buy you a pair of leather pants.”

Duff contemplated the offer. Leather pants. As things were now, he wouldn’t be able to afford them in a million years. But his hair? It had taken so long to grow it out and it was still barely past his shoulders. Allowing Carol to fuck it up might not be a good idea. 

“What exactly would you do?”

“Bleaching and trimming.”

“Absolutely not.” As if he would let her bring a pair of scissors anywhere near his head.

“I wouldn’t cut off much. Just…” she cocked her head into the other direction. “Really, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

Duff snorted. 

“Come on, Duff. You know you want to.” 

Duff had the feeling that she could barely hold back her laughter. 

“You’re making fun of me,” he said.

Carol shook her head, but the grin had already seized the corners of her mouth and made them twitch. 

“Boots,” Duff said. “Add boots and we’ve got a deal.” Fuck, how many parts of his body was he going to rent out before he got anywhere?

Carol watched him with something close to respect. “You’ve gotten better at negotiating your price,” she said.

Duff grinned. “Take it or leave it.”

“You’re the one benefiting from this.” The smile was gone and she fixed cool, grey eyes on him. 

“You only want somebody to play with, that’s all. You haven’t messed up anybody’s hair in a while and you want to know if you can still do it.”

“That’s just a side-effect.” She didn’t waver for a second. 

“Boots,” Duff said again. 

“Second hand,” Carol replied. 

“Deal.” Duff stretched out his hand and Carol shook it. 

He stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray and gulped down the last sips of tea. 

“OK, let’s go.” 

“What, now?” Carol looked at him in astonishment. 

“Sure. Before you have time to develop second thoughts.” He grinned.

“Why should I develop second thoughts?” she asked, but then she finished her own cigarette and stood up. “It’s Josh’s money, not mine.”

“You mean you’re going to…” Duff snickered. 

“It won’t hurt him.” Carol lifted Jesse up and sat him onto the table while Duff fetched his shoes from the hall. “He may not make millions and he’s still paying off the garage, but he’s put aside quite a bit and I’d say you deserve a treat.”

“I do?” Duff grabbed one of Jesse’s kicking legs and put his foot into the shoe. 

“Oh, yes.” Carol smirked. “You’ve been here for almost two weeks, and nobody has called the cops on us yet.” 

She took Kate out of her bed, sat her into her carrier and Jesse into his buggy and together they left the apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

Boots had been easy to find. Duff knew which shop he wanted, a dirty, run-down, little hole in the wall that bought and sold everything, as long as it was sleazy and looked like it had been saved from the shredder in a last-minute rescue expedition. 

The owner, some big guy dressed head to toes in leather and with tattoos on his bald skull, had thrown him out of his shop several times already, but Duff had never been one to hold a grudge. It was worth to watch his jaw drop almost to the floor when they dragged the two babies into the smoky interior. The boots were awesome, though, black and scuffed, with silver rivets along the shafts and chains around the ankle. Carol’s mouth twitched again, but she paid without complaining.

“Really cool,” she said when they left the shop. She was carrying Kate while Duff pushed the buggy forward. 

“Aren’t they?” Duff said, pretending he hadn’t heard the amusement in her voice. He didn’t mind that she was making fun of him, she had just bought him his first own real pair of boots. She could laugh about him all day if it made her happy. 

“I want to show you something, over there!” He pulled her across the narrow street to the shop on the other side and pressed his nose wistfully against the window. “That’s the one I want.”

“Not cheap.” Carol looked at the bass on display, but Duff could see she wasn’t able to appreciate it. 

Sure, it was expensive, but, Jesus Christ, when the owner had allowed him to try it out, it had been lying in his hand like it had been fitted right into it; like it was just another one of his limbs, one he had lost a long time ago, and which had been waiting for him all those year, just to be attached back to his body.

“I could sell my guitar,” Duff said. It was the only thing he possessed that was of any value. “Only it still wouldn’t be enough. Not by a long stretch. And if I get something cheap, which I would have to sell again, that would only mean that I’m getting further and further away from that one.”

Duff stood and stared until Carol tucked at his sleeve and reminded him of the purpose of their shopping spree. 

“If Kate starts crying, it’s over,” she said. “If she wakes up, we can as well go home, so we’d better use the time we have and look for pants.”

“OK,” Duff said. Tearing himself away from the shop-window almost caused physical pain. 

Pants turned out to be difficult. They were either too short or hung off his hips as if they had been made for his older brother. He was almost ready to call it a day when they stumbled across a pair in smooth, shiny, black leather that laced up at the front and down the legs. Duff clutched them to his chest and refused to let go. He didn’t care that they were too wide, he would just gain a few pounds in the right places and they would fit. 

Eventually Carol decided to drop a couple of bucks on the owner of another little hole in the wall who promised to have them fitted within an hour, so they wouldn’t have to come back. The little Asian woman squinted at him from critically narrowed eyes before she fetched the tools of her trade and told him gruffly to stop twitching while she took measures. 

“Look, make them tighter here, here and here.” Carol indicated what she thought had to be done. “I want people to wonder if he had to lube his legs to get into them.”

It was embarrassing. Duff stood in the middle of the room like a display dummy while two women groped his ass and his legs. 

“Don’t hold your breath, Duff,” Carol admonished when he tried to pull his belly away from a finger that poked under his waistband. 

Under different circumstances this might have been amusing, but right now he had to concentrate very hard on sad and evil thoughts.

“Don’t tell me you are…” For a second Carol’s hand slipped between his legs. 

Duff summoned up a vivid picture of his old geography-teacher, Mr Marsland, in a pink tutu, but he was sure she had confirmed her suspicion. 

Duff blushed when he saw the mock disapproval on her face. She raised her eyebrows and her lips formed something that looked a lot like ‘naughty boy’. 

“OK,” the tailor eventually said.

Duff was happy to change into his jeans, which were less likely to give his current state of confusion away. 

His martyrdom wasn’t over though. Carol parked him together with the babies in a café while she headed off to the next drugstore to get dye. When she returned, the bag she carried was far too big to contain just a small carton, but she wouldn’t let him have a look and eventually Duff gave up. He started to fear that the price he soon had to pay was higher than he had bargained for. 

+++

An hour later Duff sat on a chair in the bathroom, his hair freshly washed and still wet, a towel around his shoulders and Carol and the scissors behind him. 

“You’re really not cutting off much, aren’t you?” he asked.

“You’ve asked that for about a hundred times now, Samson,” Carol said. “Stop fussing. I know what I’m doing. At least I knew before Jesse was born. Maybe I’ve forgotten it all.”

Duff made moves to stand up, but Carol pushed him back down. 

“That was a joke.” She put her hands onto his shoulders and squeezed in comfort. “It’s like riding a bike. You don’t unlearn it.”

She picked up a comb and worked herself through his hair with a rigour that was more suitable for grooming a horse. Then, before Duff had a chance to react, the first lock fell and lay dark and accusing on the white tile-floor. It wasn’t alone for more than a second. Soon the floor was scattered with hair and the lump in Duff’s stomach started to grow with alarming speed. 

“Carol,” he said and started to shift. “Are you really sure…”

“Yes, and now hold still.”

He couldn’t even follow the progress in the mirror as Carol had covered it with a towel.

‘You can look when I’m done,’ she had said. 

He tried to catch a glimpse somewhere around the corners of the towel, but Carol grabbed his head and turned it back into its former position.

“If you don’t hold still, I can’t guarantee for anything.”

Duff settled. What else could he do? Carol cut and snipped and pulled at his hair and turned his head up and down and right and left like he was a practicing-dummy. From time to time she picked up the issue of Rolling Stone and compared her work to the pictures. She wouldn’t even show him which of the guys she was aiming for. 

“OK,” she said after a while and eyed him from all angles. “I think that’s it.”

“Can I look now?” Duff turned his head to the veiled mirror. 

“First the bleach.” She picked up the cartons. 

“You’re really going to make it blond?” he asked. 

“I’ll do two colours. Basically, it’s blond, but I’ll try to tip it with black, OK? It’s gonna look fucking cool, I tell you.”

Duff shifted uncomfortably while Carol slashed the stuff into his hair and then told him to wait and let it take effect. Meanwhile she sat on the bathtub, feeding Kate. Duff tried to not look at her breasts, which she displayed without any qualms. His cock twitched a little when he thought of her hands between his legs earlier, the way she had so casually patted around on his body, like she was dressing one of her kids in the morning.

She wasn’t that bad looking for somebody who was almost thirty. Not rank thin, not after two babies, but still OK. She had a bit of ass and tits, but that was only a benefit. He liked the expression on her face, how it turned soft for one minute and hard and cool for the next. 

When Carol looked up and caught him staring, he quickly averted his gaze. 

“You’re in a bit of a mood today, aren’t you?” she said, but it sounded only matter-of-factly. 

Duff didn’t answer. What did she expect? She was unpacking her fucking tits in front of him. He wasn’t a kid, he was a grown-up man, of course he reacted to them.

“Don’t worry,” she added and closed her blouse. “I guess I should be flattered. I don’t think any guy so much as looked at me since I was pregnant with Kate. And I also think you should rinse now or your hair is going to crumble.”

She held the showerhead while Duff washed over the bathtub. She still wouldn’t let him look into the mirror, but he was shocked by the blond strands he suddenly held in his hand. 

“Looks like it worked,” he said, his voice a bit shaky. 

“Yeah.” Carol pointed towards the chair. “Let me do the black.”

The procedure was repeated and Duff started to seriously wonder how much time the average rock musician spent at the hairdresser. It was a ridiculous image, all those cool, tough, bad-ass guys, meekly put down in a line of chairs to have their hair washed and dyed and wrapped around hot-rollers. 

Carol made him bend forward and let his head hang down and Duff flinched when a cascade of blond covered his eyes while she wildly blew everything up with her dryer. 

“And now, your best friend,” she said when Duff was ready to run screaming. 

“No,” he gasped and stared at the bottle she branded in front of his eyes.

“Yes.”

“You’re not putting fucking hairspray into my hair!” He was no chick, for fuck’s sake, and this was just one step too far. 

“Look.” Carol picked up the magazine. “How do you think these guys get their hair up like that, huh? Anti-gravity-spells?” 

Duff took a deep breath. 

“If you absolutely don’t like it, just wash it out,” she said. “Come on, give it a try, OK? You said you’d let me have a go.”

Duff took another deep breath.

“I bought you the boots.”

It was true. She had bought him the boots. 

“Close your eyes.”

He obeyed. 

The smell was sickening and the spray tickled in his nose and burned in his eyes, no matter how tightly he squeezed them shut. She could be damn sure he wouldn’t do this ever again. 

“And?” he asked after at least half the bottle had been emptied over his head. “Can I look now?” 

“First dress,” she said, but there was a strange expression on her face and Duff got the sickening feeling that the result wasn’t exactly what she had aimed for. “I’m back in a minute. Don’t cheat.”

With a feeling of defeat, he put on his new pants and a sleeveless, ragged-looking T-shirt Carol had picked up while he was minding the babies in the café. When he touched his hair, it felt like candy-floss. 

She returned with more stuff and scattered it over the bathroom-floor. 

“The shirt is too short,” he complained.

“It’s perfect.” She put two fingers onto the stripe of skin that showed between hem and waistband. 

“Here, that’s one of mine, but you can have it.”

She handed him a broad, riveted belt. 

“I don’t need a belt.” That was why they had gone through all the trouble of fitting the pants after all.

“Duff,” Carol said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Just put it on. Like this.”

She lifted the magazine again and pointed towards a guy who had a belt slung low around his hips. 

Duff caved in. What else could he do? Carol wouldn’t leave him alone before she was done playing dress-up. As long as nobody saw him, he could later pretend that it had never happened at all. 

He hardly protested when she put a long chain with a heavy crucifix around his neck and slapped a couple of silver-bracelets around his arms. He would look like a hooker ready to entertain the complete crew of an aircraft carrier.

“Are your ears pierced?” she asked and rummaged through her jewel-case.

“Sure,” Duff replied. “My sister did it with a hot needle.” It had hurt like a motherfucker. 

“And the holes are still open?”

Duff shrugged. He had sold his earrings a while ago. 

He caught a glimpse on something glittering, but then he shrieked when Carol forced a sharp object through his ear. 

“Apparently not,” she said and aimed for his second ear. Another sharp sting, but this time he was prepared and didn’t even flinch. “OK, what’s missing now?” She eyed him from head to toes.

Duff only wanted to run. He wanted to get rid of the hairspray, the jewellery, even the boots and pants. If all this was necessary to look ‘hot’, he would have to make do with ‘cute’. 

“Ah yes, how could I forget?”

“No,” Duff objected feebly when she dragged the next torture-device out of her dreaded plastic bag. “No, you’re not doing that. And no, you don’t have to show me the freaking pictures again, I’m not doing that!”

“It’s only eye-liner,” Carol said. “And maybe a little bit of lip-gloss. I’m not turning you into a drag-queen.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing here.” Duff slumped back onto the chair. He buried his face in his hands, but the feel of stiff hair scraping against his skin freaked him out. “I don’t want this, Carol,” he whined. 

“You can just wash it off.” She crouched down in front of him and put her hands onto his knees. “Come one. Just let me try.”

Duff nodded in defeat. He had done all the other shit, he could very well let her complete this last heinousness. He automatically closed his eyes when she poked at them with the pen, but then he held still while she ran the tip around his eyes and even opened his mouth when she smeared something unpleasant onto his lips. 

“Done?” Duff asked when she sat back on her heels. He wondered how people could do this every day. It was fucking exhausting!

“Done.” Carol stood up. “Come on.” She took his hand and led him to the big mirror in the hall. 

Duff was almost afraid to have a look, but then he collected his courage and stepped around. For a moment he only stared at himself. No. Not himself. Some stranger with wild blond hair and dark eyes. 

“What do you say?” Carol stepped up behind him and peeped over his shoulder. 

“I… I don’t know.” Duff swallowed. “I look like…” He had no idea. 

“It’s unfamiliar, I know,” Carol fluffed up his hair. “I feel like that each time I come from the hairdresser, but you’ll get used to it.”

Duff doubted that she knew how he felt. That guy in the mirror had nothing to do with him and he wasn’t even sure if he wanted him to. 

“At least admit that you look hot.” Carol sounded slightly offended and he cast her a wary glance. 

“I… I suppose so,” he said feebly. Yes, he did look hot. Almost like a girl with all that makeup and jewellery. He wasn’t a girl. He didn’t want to be one either. Was that really what people wanted to see on stage? A guy dressed up like a street tart? What for if they could get a street tart at the next corner?

“Just give it some time,” Carol put her hands onto his waist and pulled at his pants. “You’ll see, you’ll…”

She broke off when they heard a key turn in the lock. 

Josh opened the door, but instead of coming in he just stood there like a salt-pillar. 

“Who the fuck…” For almost a minute he just stared at Duff. Then he broke into laughter. “Oh my God,” he gasped, while he took off his jacket. “What the hell happened to you?”

Duff blushed. Even under all his make-up he could clearly see it in the mirror.

“Stop laughing,” Carol said and boxed him onto his arm. “Tell him that he looks good.”

Josh looked at Duff and struggled to keep his face straight. 

“You look…” He burst into another fit. “I’m sorry,” he brought out eventually. “It’s just…” he touched Duff’s sticky hair and pulled a face. “What did you do it for?”

“You’re an insensitive prick,” Carol said. “It’s because Duff got another slap down today and we’re going to increase his chances by showing that he’s cool, hot and sexy, got it?”

Josh sobered a little. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you had your hopes up high.”

Duff shrugged. “It’s OK.” He blushed even more. It was easier to have Josh laughing at him for looking like a hooker than feeling pity for him because he was not good enough to make it into a band. 

Josh put an arm around his shoulders and stirred him into the kitchen. 

“It’s just because I’m still trying for guitar,” Duff explained, feeling an irrational urge to justify his failure. “I need a fucking bass, that’s what I’m good at, only I need a band to get enough money to buy a bass, and I need a bass to find a band, which is just fucked up.”

“What’s for dinner Carol?” Josh asked before he gave Duff a short hug. “It’ll turn out,” he said. “You’ll see. Just don’t give up, ‘K?”

“Uhm,” Carol made. “I’m afraid we were too busy.” 

Josh sighed. 

“But we could go out for dinner,” she suggested. “I mean, we should go out, with Duff being all ….” Her face twitched.

“He’s going to be arrested when he goes onto the street like that,” Josh replied. “Maybe we better order take-out.”

Duff started to giggle. He couldn’t help himself. The whole situation was so ridiculous. Or maybe he was hysteric. He could either laugh or cry and laughing was just easier.

‘You’re still going to laugh when they put the rope around your neck to hang you, Duff,’ Grandma McKagan used to say. 

+++

Later, when he was lying in bed, curled up close to the edge as usual, he suddenly felt Josh’s hand on his arm.

“Duff?”

“What?” he mumbled, pretending he had already been asleep. He didn’t feel like working for his rent, not today. 

“I’m sorry,” Josh said. “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“It’s OK,” Duff replied. “I looked pretty ridiculous, I guess.”

“No, you didn’t.” Josh hesitated. “I was just … surprised. You looked very good.”

“Thank you,” Duff whispered, wide awake now. Anticipation crawled down his spine like a troop of ants and when Josh’s hand slipped under his shirt it cost him all he had to lie still. 

“I didn’t recognize you at first. You looked so… grown up.”

“I am grown up.” Duff bit his lip. Josh’s hand was on his belly, rubbing in slow circles. 

“I know. Experienced was the word I should have used. I liked it.” He pulled his hand out and stroked his hair instead. “I also like your new hair-colour. You’ve got beautiful hair.”

“I don’t know,” Duff replied. “It’s such a nuisance. I think I’ll cut it all off. I think I would like really short.”

“Don’t do that.” Josh’s lips were on his neck and his hand slipped back under his shirt. “It would be a shame. And Carol would be hurt after all the work she put into it.”

Duff closed his eyes. So far Josh had never really touched him beyond a loose hug. It made him want to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. He was already as close to the edge as he could get without falling off the couch. He lay very still while Josh’s hand crawled upwards and his lips brushed over his jaw. 

Josh tried to roll him onto his back and eventually Duff knew no other way out than to give in. The kiss didn’t come as a surprise and so he had himself under enough control to just let it happen. It wasn’t long or deep, but he still felt relieved when Josh pulled away. 

“Good night,” he whispered and forced a smile. 

“Good night.” Josh let him go and Duff curled back into himself, the stale taste of disgust still on his tongue.


	4. Chapter 4

“How do I look?” Carol stopped a few steps from the table. 

“Cool,” Duff replied and tried to keep Jesse from smearing banana-mash all over his face.

“Not too much make up?” 

Duff shook his head. 

“You sure? Fuck.” She went to the counter and tried to see her image in the stainless-steel of the sink. Not that it was clean enough. “I haven’t worn make-up in ages and I sometimes go overboard.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” 

Carol knocked him onto the head.

“I don’t want him to think I’m a tart or something, you know? What about the colours? Too shrill? Should I wear something, dunno, discrete?”

Duff gave her a confused look. “I’m colour-blind,” he said. “Do you really want my opinion about colours?”

“Sorry, I forgot.” 

“And anyway, I’m no chick. You need to ask another chick all those questions.”

“Oh yes, how about I ask Kate?” Carol tucked at her blouse. “You’re here, so I have to make do with you. Delia said he was a really nice guy, one with a decent job and all. If he thinks I’m a tart, I don’t think he’ll ask me out a second time.”

“You’re not.” Duff made airplane-movements with the spoon and uttered airplane-sounds until Jesse opened his mouth in astonishment. “If he calls you anything nasty, just send him over to me.”

Carol snickered. “You’re cute.”

Duff wrinkled his nose. “Do you always have to call me cute?”

“Yes.” She pulled at her skirt. “I’m too fat,” she grunted. “My legs look like pillars. Maybe I should wear pants. I had to buy everything new after Jesse, so with Kate I’ve sworn to take care, but I’ve still gained ten pounds. I thought I could wear this skirt, but, fuck, it makes my ass look fat.”

“I think you look great,” Duff said. “You look different, you know? Really cool. With your hair all curly, ‘n all. And I don’t think you’re too fat.” Sure, her clothes were a bit tight, but he liked how her blouse stretched over her breasts and how her ass was clearly lined out below the skirt. 

“Duff, baby, believe me, I am fat. I would kill for your legs,” she said and pulled her blouse out of the waistband. “I put on another shirt, one that covers my ass.”

She staggered out of the room and returned five minutes later, this time wearing a long shirt that went down to almost the bottom-seam of her skirt. 

“Better?”

“I liked the other one,” Duff said. “I think it was hotter.” He felt his ears burn the moment he had said it.

“Hotter?” Carol raised her eyebrows. “You think my fat ass is hot?” 

Duff faked innocence. “How should I know? I didn’t look at your ass.” 

“You’re a guy. Worse, you’re a teenager. You did look at my ass.” Carol put on a pair of black stilettos. “Jesus, I don’t think I can wear these.” She made a few unsteady steps and pulled a face. “My feet must have gotten fatter, too.” She pulled one shoe off and limped on the other one into the hall. “I guess my days as hot chick are over,” she yelled before she came back with a pair of flat pumps. “I’m a grownup woman now and the responsible mother of two adorable babies. I really try to behave like one, really, but why the fuck do I have to look like one?” She sat down and put on her shoes. “Time to grow up, I guess.”

“That would be boring,” Duff said. 

“But healthy.” Carol settled on her chair. “You’re all sorted out, right?”

Duff nodded. “Kate’s bottle is in the fridge, I know how to warm it up, I will hold my breath and change her diapers if I have to and if anything happens, I’ll call Delia.”

“Thank you,” Carol said. “Really. You’re doing me a huge favour.”

Duff shrugged. “I had nothing lined up for tonight anyway.” Josh was attending a mechanic work-shop in Detroit and Duff couldn’t say he was sad to have the apartment to himself. It gave him a chance to breathe. “Where are you going?”

“Movies. And then maybe to a bar for a drink. Boring, I know.” She laughed a little nervously. “But I haven’t had a real date in over three years and I’d rather go for safe.”

“Nothing wrong with safe.” Jesse had finished and Duff pushed the plate away. 

“For an old chick like me, you mean?” Carol winked at him. 

Duff opened his mouth for a retort, but he was interrupted by the door-bell.

Carol jumped up. “I’ve gotta go. You two be good, OK?” She quickly kissed Duff onto his mouth and Jesse onto his cheek before she adjusted her skirt and fluffed her hair. 

When she headed out of the kitchen, Duff felt a flash of satisfaction. Mr Nice-Guy wouldn’t be treated to her ass moving under the too tight skirt or her blouse stretching over her breasts. All her goodies were well hidden under the chaste wide shirt. 

As soon as Carol was out of view, Duff stood up and sneaked over to the kitchen door, where he knew he would be able to catch a glimpse on them in the hall-mirror. 

Mr Nice-Guy was at best ordinary. When it came to coolness, Duff was convinced that he played at least one league above him. Rather two. Or three. Make that ten, he decided.

Mr Nice-Guy helped Carol into her coat and she smiled at him in a totally different way than she used to smile at Duff; not like she was teasing him, or joking or about to tell him that he was cute, but like she wanted him to like her. 

“No, it’s all right,” Carol answered a question he had missed. “I’ve found a baby-sitter.”

The door closed behind them and Jesse started to whine in his high-chair. Kate was already asleep and would hopefully stay that way. Yeah. A baby-sitter. Better he went back to being one instead of standing around and wondering whether Carol would let that slimy asshole put his arm around her shoulder, or his hand onto her ass. 

“Want me to tell you a story, Jesse?” he asked.

Jesse babbled something incomprehensible. 

“How about you put on your jammies, and I tell you the story about Duff, the famous bassist.”

Jesse didn’t reject the offer. ‘Duff, the famous bassist’ was just as good as ‘Winnie the Pooh’, and Carol wasn’t there to laugh about him. No, that was unfair. Carol didn’t laugh about his ambitions. She just didn’t believe that anything would ever come out of it, and so she had started to say things like ‘You could go back to school and get your high school diploma’. ‘Isn’t there anything else you’re interested in?’ or ‘I’ve heard that the big construction-company, Johnson or Johnston or Jameson, is hiring new staff.’ And once even ‘You can’t do this forever, Duff.’

‘Can’t do what?’ Duff had asked and his mouth had been all dry.

‘You know what,’ she had said, not accusingly, and so he hadn’t even been able to yell at her for calling him a whore.

‘I love having you here. You’re like the little brother I’ve never had and never wanted.’ She had tried a grin. ‘But one day you’ll wish, you hadn’t wasted your life.’

She hadn’t looked at him, had just stared onto the rings of dried tea on the table and when Duff hadn’t answered, she had let the subject go. 

Maybe Jesse wasn’t a fan of ‘Duff, the famous bassist’. He fell asleep so quickly that Duff almost felt put off by his lack of interest. 

He spent the evening with a bag of crisps and a few cans of beer in front of the TV. He had promised Carol to not get drunk while she was away and so he put a stop to his alcohol-consumption after only the second can. It was a pathetic way to spend a Saturday evening, alone and babysitting. If Carol thought cinema was boring, this was the bottom-line of how boring life could ever get. 

It wasn’t even 10 PM when Duff heard the key in the lock.

He groaned. If it was Josh who had come home earlier, he would insist on a romantic evening, only the two of them, and lots of kissing and groping. He had grown far too fond of contact ever since the blasted first kiss.

Duff padded through the kitchen into the corridor and stood perplexed.

“Carol? Why are you already back?”

Carol kicked her shoes into the corner and impatiently tried to find some hold for her coat on top of all the other jackets. When it fell down the second time, she just let it lie. 

“I guess the movie wasn’t all that great,” he joked, but became serious when he saw her face. 

“Did you cry?”

“No.” She wiped at her eyes. “It’s raining outside.”

“It stopped hours ago.”

“Well, it started again, OK?”

Duff looked at her smeared make-up. The mascara around her eyes left the impression that somebody had blackened both of her eyes. She really tended to go overboard on make-up.

“Want me to make you some tea?”

Carol laughed harshly. “You were right, Duff, you know. There are things you can’t cure with tea. Let’s raid the liquor-cabinet. Go and get the glasses.”

She vanished inside the bed-room, leaving him standing in the hall like an unwanted parcel. Minutes later, wearing sweats and a clean face, she was just Carol again and the short flash of confusion and maybe hurt she had expressed earlier was over. 

“What are you waiting for?” She shook her head in mock disappointment. 

“You sure, you’re all right?”

“I have the feeling you’re the one who’s not all right,” she said. “I’m offering you free booze, in case you didn’t get it.” She took his hand and pulled him into the living-room. “Whisky or vodka?” she asked while she rummaged through the cupboard. “Here is something nice, French Cognac. Wonder where Josh got that from.”

“Whisky.” Vodka would only make him drink too much too fast and he had the feeling he needed to have his wits together tonight. 

“Right.” Carol brought the bottle and two glasses over to the couch. 

“What happened?” Duff asked and stared at the golden fluid she poured out generously.

“Do you want to talk or drink?” Carol raiser her glass. “Cheers, Duff.” She knocked it back in one single gulp.

Two glasses later, Carol slumped into the couch like an inflated rubber-doll. 

“What happened?” Duff asked again. Maybe she was drunk enough to finally tell. 

“Oh, nothing,” she said. “He was just an octopus. Had his fucking hands everywhere.”

“Oh,” Duff said and busied himself with his whisky. Maybe he shouldn’t tell Carol that he had been found guilty in quite a few cases of octopussing girls himself. 

“They hadn’t even dimmed the fucking lights yet, when I already had his greedy hand under my skirt.” She shifted until she could rest her head on Duff’s shoulder. “I knew I should have worn pants.”

“If you give me his address, I can beat him up,” Duff said. He meant it. She had so been looking forward to this date.

“You’re sweet.” Carol turned her head upwards and smiled at him. “Why can’t I ever meet somebody like you? Only ten years older. And with a job. Somebody who is sensible and responsible and can think further than his dick.” 

“Because that wouldn’t be me anymore,” Duff said lightly. He put his arm around her shoulder and tried to hide his embarrassment. 

“Oh, fuck,” Carol mumbled, her face pressed against his neck. “I should have expected it. Who should be interested in a fat, old cow with two babies for anything but a quick fuck?”

“Me,” Duff said and his ears started to burn.

“That’s what I mean.” Carol blinked at him, a teary smile swimming on her face. “You’re so sweet. First I’ve ruined your evening and now I’m crying all over you and you’re still saying all those sweet little things.”

“You’re drunk,” Duff said. 

“Yes, I am.” Carol slumped back against him. “You know what is so funny about this? Maybe I would even have slept with him. I haven’t had sex in so long. You probably won’t even believe it’s possible to survive that long without sex.”

Duff didn’t answer. It wasn’t as if he got his rocks off regularly. Sometimes in the morning, when he was still half asleep, Josh sneaked a hand into his pants and before he even had a chance to fully wake up, he would come. And feel dirty afterwards. Everything that was related to sex had started to taste stale and bitter. It was on the verge of becoming something he did instead of something he wanted. 

It was the kissing that made him sick. Not even vast amounts of vodka would put him into a state where he didn’t have to fight his gag-reflex as soon as he could smell Josh’s breath. While he was able to detach himself from his hand, have it act on one thing while his mind was elsewhere, spacing out was impossible when lips were pressed against his and when a tongue invaded his mouth. 

Carol snuggled deeper into his arm and for once, Duff didn’t feel like a little boy around her. She was coming to him for comfort, like they were equals or at least the same age and the trust she expressed made him feel almost light-headed. 

When he kissed her, it was almost an accident. Her face was so close to his own that it didn’t take more than a second of inattention for Duff to lean in. 

Instead of slapping him into his face, she kissed him back. When Duff felt her pull away, he was prepared to let her go, but she didn’t retreat more than a few inches. She reached out and touched his cheek. She seemed so sad, not like the Carol he knew, not sarcastic and in control, just sad and lonely. It closed the age-gap between them far better than any amount of make-up ever could.

“This is so wrong,” she said, and then she kissed him again. She pushed him backwards onto the couch and Duff, caught in a void between panic and need, let her do it. 

Sweats were not sexy, but they were easy to get rid of. They had turned the couch into the bed and taken out the blankets, but Duff still shivered. Carol stroked his chest, his belly, his hip, until her hand closed around his cock.

“Touch me,” she whispered. 

Duff laid a hand onto her back. He could feel her breasts against his side and her legs wormed their way between his, but he still wasn’t sure what to do. The girls he knew were different, they smelled of cheap perfume and alcohol and their hair, which always got into his mouth, tasted of hairspray. They tucked at his cock like they tucked at their clothes and when he fucked them, they made a lot more noises than his skills could possibly warrant. 

Carol didn’t groan. She made no sound at all. He felt her skin shiver under his hand and when she took his cock into her mouth, it had nothing to do with the clumsy sucking he was used to. She pulled back after only a few seconds and kissed his belly instead, while she ran her hand over his skin like she was smoothing out a piece of silk. 

Duff let his hand wander lower inch by inch, from her back to her ass and her legs so he would notice in time when he made the same mistake as Mr Not-So-Nice-Guy, and passed a border she wasn’t willing to cross. He took a deep breath before he slipped it between her thighs, but instead of pushing him away, she just spread her legs a little more.

Suddenly her hand covered his. Duff quickly tried to pull away, but she just held him there and pushed his fingers back into her. He stilled, sure that he had done something stupid and clumsy and that she would now laugh about him and call him ‘cute’. He didn’t want to be cute. At least not this one time.

“Let me show you,” she whispered. She moved his hand up and down and in slow circles and eventually he managed to do it to her satisfaction. He knew it because she whimpered. It sounded different to the noises he was used to during sex. Everything was so silent, so suppressed, like every sound was ripped from her with sheer force. 

Carol shifted and he used his free hand to touch her breasts. When he squeezed carefully, his fingers caught a drop of fluid and he shied away, not sure whether he had done something forbidden. 

“Does it put you off?” she asked. “I can put on my bra.” 

Duff licked his finger clean and shook his head. No, he wasn’t put off. It was strange, but everything about this encounter was strange. 

She kissed him and he let her roll him back onto his back before she took his dick and led it into her body. Duff groaned softly and for a moment he had to close his eyes. Carol crouched over him, her head buried in his hair as if she couldn’t stand to look at him while she moved her hips back and forward and her breasts rubbed against his chest. 

Duff came too early. He knew it the moment it happened, but he still couldn’t hold back. When his limp cock slipped out of her, Carol stopped her movements and curled up next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but Carol just took his hand and led it back between her legs. 

“Use your hand,” she said. “And when you’re famous and people look at you and marvel about how your fingers move over the strings, then I can feel special because those fingers will always hold a place in my memory.”

Duff tried to find the rhythm she had shown him, and when she twitched and tensed and came without hardly making a sound, he knew that he had found it. 

He yearned for a cigarette, but Carol lay half on top of him and he didn’t want to let go of her. So he just pulled the blanket over both of them and settled for the night. 

+++

Duff woke up alone. He remembered dimly being roused in the middle of the night by the crying of a baby, and that Carol had crawled out of bed, groaning and holding her head. His skin was sticky, the familiar mixture of sweat and something else, something outside his grasp; the proof that yesterday night hadn’t been a dream because yesterday’s stale-smelling leftovers were smeared all over his skin. 

Had Carol returned after calming her child? Duff couldn’t say and the more he woke up, the sicker he felt. She had been drunk; too drunk to think clearly, that much was sure. What if she had been upset in the morning? Duff’s stomach threatened to turn and he suddenly felt very weak. If she had called Josh… if she had told him that he had touched her… He swallowed on the lump in his throat. 

There was only one way to find out. Duff crawled out of bed and collected his clothes from the floor. If she was upset it wasn’t a good idea to meet her naked.

She was in the kitchen, sitting at the table and drinking tea. 

“Hey,” she said and pulled her robe tighter around herself. “I thought I’d let you sleep in.”

“Thanks.” He wondered if it was OK to touch her, or give her a kiss. She didn’t sound upset, but if she was overboard with delight to see him, she hid it well.

“I feel like shit.”

“Yeah,” Duff said. He shuffled over to the counter and started the coffee-machine. 

“There can’t be a repeat.” She turned around to look at him. Dark shadows lay under her eyes and her skin colour was as unhealthy as it could get. Duff still thought she was beautiful. “This was a mistake. A one-time-glitch. We’re clear on this right?”

“Sure,” Duff mumbled. He should be grateful that she wasn’t making a scene. A girlfriend was the last thing on his mind, leave alone one with two children. He needed to be free, needed to be able to leave at a heartbeat once he had found a band. They would play, score a recording-contract and go on tour. A girlfriend would only weigh him down. 

“Good.” Carol stared into her tea as if the answers to all the questions of humanity lay on the bottom of the cup. “It’s not as if I wasn’t having enough troubles the way it is. I can’t even feed the two children I have. I really don’t need a third one.” She rubbed her forehead. 

“I could get a job,” Duff said. “That construction company you mentioned. If they’re really hiring. I mean, I’ve done construction work before, I’m sure they’ll take me.”

Carol turned around. “Do you have to make it so difficult?” she snapped. There was this little furrow between her brows, the one that spoke of nothing good. “Do you really have to stand there and say… say shit like that?”

“I mean it.” Duff ducked his head. Others had done it before him. It wouldn’t be the end of everything. He could still play. “I can work in the morning and play in the evening.” 

If anything, the idea infuriated her even further. “That’s what I mean,” she snarled. “You… you have all those… phantasms in your head. Jesus, just look at you. You can’t even take care of yourself.”

Duff flinched. 

“You’re nineteen fucking years old. You shouldn’t even be thinking about shit like that. You should make unrealistic plans, enjoy life, find out what you really want. Go for your fucking pipedream and pretend it might actually lead to something. You have no idea about responsibility and what it means to take care of a family. And you shouldn’t have. You’re a child, Duff. A child.”

“You didn’t think so yesterday evening.” Now he didn’t only swallow against the lump in his throat, but also against the dryness in his mouth. What was he complaining about? He had done the same often enough: told a girl whatever she wanted to hear just so she would sleep with him. Now he knew how it felt from the other end. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Carol forced out. “But you can be sure I feel like shit for what I did. Fuck, I seduced my brother’s teenage-catamite. I’m definitely not proud of that.”

Duff sucked in air. 

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, Duff.” She stood up and rushed over to where he was standing, but when she touched his arm, Duff shook her off. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It’s not your fault, OK? I’m the one who should have known better, what you did was…”

“Was what?” Duff asked. His voice trembled from the strain to keep it calm. 

“There was nothing wrong with what you did yesterday.” She turned away. “And if you’re angry with me… I don’t think you can be anymore angry with me than I’m already with myself.” She made another attempt to touch him, but when he wouldn’t let her, she returned to her chair and to studying her tea-cup. “I think I was flattered. You were so… so…affectionate…and it made me feel so...” She broke off. 

“I love you,” Duff whispered to her back. The coffee was ready, but he didn’t feel like drinking it. He rather felt like going to the bathroom and puke. 

“Duff,” Carol said tiredly. “Sit down. Please.”

“What for?”

“Because… I don’t know. To give me a chance to explain.”

Without haste Duff padded over to the table and took a seat. He didn’t look at her, couldn’t, not when he was just making a fool of himself. When Carol took his hand, he tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. 

“There was a time,” she started, “when I was just like you. I thought the world was waiting for me. I had all those dreams and hopes. And for a while it didn’t look bad, I mean, I was at least going forward. And now? I mean, look at me. Everything’s over. I don’t have the energy to go through this again.”

Duff curled his fingers under her hand, but she only gripped tighter.

“It doesn’t have to be, you know,” he said. “Over, I mean. You take what’s there and make the best out of it. That’s how it goes.” 

He should be happy that she felt like shit for using him, but he didn’t. It hurt to see her so desolate and he wished he could do something to make it better. Only she had made it clear that his comfort wasn’t welcome. Everything she said was so sensible. So grownup. It was the stuff he couldn’t argue with, but which he knew deep in his heart, was wrong nevertheless.

“Do you know what you are, Duff?” Carol asked and for once she looked him in the eye. “You’re one of those stray cats.”

“Stray cats?” Duff shook his head. 

“One of those cats you find on your doorstep when it’s cold outside. They’re hungry and beaten up and sometimes they miss an ear or have a broken leg. You don’t really want them, but you can’t shoo them away either and so you let them in. You feed them, you pet them, you start to love them and eventually you decide to keep them. And then, one morning in spring, you go out and call them, but they’re just gone because something out there was stronger than whatever love they felt for you.” 

“Not all cats are like that,” he whispered, but Carol just shook her head. 

“You’re a good kid, Duff, OK?” Duff wondered if she was about to cry. “Don’t let anybody ever tell you anything else.” 

He would never understand why people made life so complicated. Either the time wasn’t right, or the place was wrong or the moon wasn’t in the third house. Life wasn’t too generous with chances. It was important to take those that were on offer. 

‘Think once, Duff’ Grandma McKagan used say. ‘Think twice. But don’t think three times or you will never get anywhere at all.’

Duff wondered if Carol had sorted him out after the second or the third thought. 

+++

“Somebody died?” Josh asked when he returned in the afternoon. “Or why are you all looking like the world was coming to an end?”

“I must have eaten something wrong,” Carol said. “I’ve been puking all day.”

“That’s bad.” He picked up Jesse out of an earthquake of toy-bricks. 

Kate sat on Carol’s lap, her fat, little baby-hands grabbing for everything they could reach on the table. 

Duff had been in the living-room, playing guitar and wishing for a bass when Josh had barked his ‘hallo’ through the apartment. He stood in the doorway, not sure what to say and wondering if ‘SEX’ was written all over his face.

“I think I’m past the worst,” Carol said. “Just don’t ask me to cook anything tonight, the very idea of food is enough to send me puking again.”

“I can make spaghetti,” Duff offered. It was about the only dish he could cook. 

“Who cares about dinner?” Josh sat down and let Jesse ride on his knees, every inch the doting uncle. “Does anybody of you care about what happened during the last days?” 

Duff blushed. As if there was anything else, he was thinking about. Carol shot him a warning glance.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” she said. “How was the workshop?”

“Awesome.” Josh had only waited for the prompt and didn’t seem further interested in the reason for the desolate mood around him. “A few of those guys were freaking fantastic, they just knew everything about cars. It was humbling. But that’s not all.” He made a pause and assured he had their full attention. “You’re talking to the owner of the new main contracted garage for Richmond’s Logistics.” 

“No.” Carol woke out of her stupor. “But that’s…”

“Great is the word you’re looking for? Fantastic? Brilliant?” Josh grinned and although Duff had no idea what they were talking about, he caught up on their excitement. 

“I’ve got a one-year contract for now, but with option to renew if they’re content with my work.”

“Awesome.” Carol smiled all over her puffy face. “Really, Josh, you deserve it.”

“It means that we can look for a bigger apartment,” Josh said. “Let’s face the facts here, it will at least be a year, if not longer, before Kate is old enough and you can get a job and a place of your own and, really, I want my bedroom back.”

“Oh my,” Carol whispered. 

Suddenly Duff felt shut out. It was a stupid feeling as he had never really belonged to them, but for a while the illusion had been there. For a while he had slipped into a skin that wasn’t his, had been quiet and domestic because he had to, but now he noticed that underneath all that, the real Duff was still alive. 

He had fooled himself, but he had never been able to fool Carol. She was right. This wasn’t his life. He didn’t want to worry about having enough space, about finding the right school or making sure there was enough money to pay the rent and buy food. Josh and Carol had offered him shelter and the time to lick his wounds. He had used them just like they had used him. 

Duff watched while Josh talked and Carol smiled, watched how Jesse squirmed off Josh’s lap and stumbled back to his bricks, and it dawned on him that his wounds had healed, that spring was coming and that it was time to go and do whatever it was the likes of him were doing. 

Time to move on.

Josh wanted to celebrate, but Carol, still far off her peak, called it an early night. Duff and Josh remained in the living-room. When Josh put an arm around him, Duff automatically laid his head onto his shoulder and closed his eyes, and prepared himself to do his job. Had it really been just yesterday? Only 24 hours ago he had been lying with Carol on the same couch, holding her, kissing her, loving her. Now her scent was replaced with Josh’s, hard muscles where he yearned for soft flesh.

“I missed you,” Josh said. 

“Yeah,” Duff said, trying to sound not too put off. Josh wasn’t one of the truly bad guys, he could be kind and friendly and generous. If only he would keep his hands to himself. Duff sighed. He had to tell Josh that he was leaving; but not right now, not when he had just had enough vodka to make him all drowsy and loose-limbed. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Josh continued. “I’m getting the first upfront payment end of next week. I could buy you that bass guitar you want.”

Duff sat up. “You’re joking,” he brought out. “Or not?”

Josh chuckled. “Did I ever tell you how cute you are when you’re all excited?”

“You’re doing it? Really?” Before he could stop himself, Duff threw himself into Josh’s arms.

“Hey,” Josh laughed and hugged him. “Yeah, I’ll do it. If it makes you that happy.”

“Thank you,” Duff stuttered and hugged him back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“It’s fine.” Josh stroked over his hair, his back and when he opened his pants, Duff sat up and reached for his cock without the slightest hesitation. A bass. The bass. He couldn’t expect a present like that for free. 

Josh sighed. He tilted Duff’s head upwards and kissed him. Duff tolerated it, the bass firmly before his inner eye. 

“You’ve got a beautiful mouth,” Josh said.

Duff froze. His hand faltered on Josh’s cock and his blood curdled in his veins.

Josh brushed a thumb over his lips. “Very pretty. It makes me wonder how it would feel…”

He pushed Duff’s head down towards his crotch, not brutally, but hard enough to make a point. 

‘No,’ lay on Duff’s tongue, one word and he would be safe. Josh would never force him to do it, never, but he also wouldn’t buy him his bass. 

“I would be careful,” Josh said, his voice gentle and friendly. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The bass. 

Duff slipped off the couch. Josh parted his legs and Duff knelt down between them. He closed his eyes. Some things were easier done when he didn’t have to see too many details. Josh’s hands closed around his head and moved him into the desired direction. Duff took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

Later, when he was crouching in front of the toilet seat, waiting for his stomach to settle, he still pictured the bass in his mind. One week of cock sucking and it would be his. Black and shiny. Earned and paid for. His.

+++

"Got everything?" Carol's look swept over his belongings, the bag, the guitar, the bass. 

"There's not much I could forget," Duff said. 

"I'll miss you."

They stood in the corridor, just Carol and him. He had said good-bye to Josh in the morning, he had hugged Jesse and tickled Kate and now he was facing the hardest good-bye.

'I could visit,' lay on his tongue, but knew it wasn't a good idea. He had only been a visitor in her life and she wouldn't be happy if he dragged his world into hers. 

"You could come and watch?" he said instead. 

"Yes, I could." 

Duff knew she wouldn't. Some chapters in life were just that, chapters, and when they ended, nobody really wanted a sequel. 

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure what he was apologizing for. They had gotten along during the last two weeks, but the former closeness was gone. They had acted tense around each other, careful not to touch and not to say a wrong word at the wrong time. 

"Me, too," Carol replied. "Such a load of bullshit."

"Yeah." Duff smiled a little. 

"What was that band called again?"

Duff rolled his eyes. "Road Crew," he said, but then he saw her mouth twitch and knew she was only kidding him. 

If he was honest, the only reason he had joined the band was the guitarist.. They didn’t even have a singer. And the drummer was …well. Duff had the feeling the main reason they had accepted him was because he had offered to teach the guy how to hold a rhythm. The guitarist was good, though, and on top he had offered him to sleep in his room which was in an apartment that wasn't his, but belonged to some other guy who surely wouldn't mind. It sounded confusing, but they had sealed the deal with a bottle of Jack Daniels and Duff had decided to not worry any further. 

"Take care," Carol said and hugged him. "Don't get yourself killed."

"That would be a pity now that I have the bass." Duff picked up his stuff. "See you," he said automatically, and it hit him that he wouldn't see her. 

Carol pulled his head down and kissed him, but as soon as he had made the first step out of the apartment, he already heard the lock click shut. Duff stared at the closed door, the chipped paint, the peep-hole, the bleak door-knob. 

'Sometimes you just have to go into the other direction,' Grandma McKagan used to say. 

And so, Duff turned around and made the first step. 

-Fin-


End file.
